Fifth Day of Christmas - A Dragon on the Ice
by Elsyra
Summary: Fifth story in the Twelve Days of Christmas series. Months have passed since Yuuri took silver in the Grand Prix Final. Poised for his performance in Japan's national competition, he contemplates the meaning of this year's theme and everything at stake for him and Victor. Post-canon, following sate season. #Holiday Cheer #IceSkating #Victuuri


A/N: Happy Holidays, ya'all!

This is the **fifth** fic in my Twelve Days of Christmas jamboree. It may be read as a stand-alone. If you choose to check out other parts of this series, keep in mind that none of them technically need to be read in order _with the exception of_ days 9 and 10.

Many, many thanks to AuroraBorealia, my bestie and beta reader! She has not yet read this fic, as she has yet to watch Yuri on Ice! Soon, my friend, you will understand how breathtaking this anime is. I can't even handle it.

IMPORTANT NOTES:

Spelling:

Yuuri = Yuuri Katsuki

Yuri = Yuri Plisetsky

Music for each of Yuuri's Programmes:

Short Program - Gold Dust by Galantis

Free Skate - The Boy Who is Dragon from Spirited Away combined with the Agni Kai theme from Avatar the Last Airbender**

* * *

The rink was quiet tonight. Yuuko and Takeshi had kicked out the reporters to give Yuuri the space he needed before the Japanese Finals tomorrow. He finally had the ice to himself, to experiment with different moves as he pleased.

Victor, on the other hand, might not be so pleased with him. He was debating whether or not to add another rotation to his first flip in his free skate during the second half.

Then again, it was all up to Yuuri now. He planned to do what felt right in the moment; his instincts served him well. He counted on them to work for him again.

Today they had practiced and critiqued both programs nonstop. He was at a point where the basics and flourishes felt comfortable. His main concern now was the potentially-damaging bout of nerves, that unmistakable jolt of fear just before a critical move. Victor had been helping him work through it over the past few months and now it was time to see if it paid off.

"A little bit of worry will help you," Victor had assured him during that day's practice session. "The moment you think you've got every single thing right is the moment you fall, just like Christophe did."

Easy for him to say! Victor had years of experience on him, and the body of an angel to boot. Even after a whole year and a half under his tutelage, feelings of wonder and desire filled him each and every time he observed Victor on the ice.

The thrill of competing against Victor was indescribably intense. His coach, his lover, and now his rival-everyone would be rooting for Victor Nikiforov this year.

Yuuri may have become a popular fan favorite thanks to last year's silver medal, but he would have to work ten times as hard to outshine Victor in the judge's eyes.

"Yuuri! Yuuri! YUURI!"

Yuuko stood at the edge of the rink, her mitten-clad hands cupped around her mouth as she chanted his name as though she was his own personal crowd of roaring fans.

"Hey, Yuuko-chan. What's up?"

"Nothing much. Thought you might be getting hungry. Your okaa-san roped Minako into helping her make shrimp udon for everyone."

Yuuri brushed ice shavings off of his sweatpants and hesitated. "I've got to get the triple axle right a few more times. I'm worried that the way we choreographed it lands me too close to the wall."

Oh no, not the frowny face! And Yuuko wondered from where her boisterous triplets learned how to always get their own way.

"I'll join soon, I promise!"

Yuuko's face softened. "Alright. Don't practice too late. You need a good night's rest."

That, Yuuri could guarantee, if the soreness in his calves had any say. He was feeling relaxed overall. Tomorrow was his day to shine, the first day he performed his programs, and not a competition against his coach. This Christmas, he skated for Victor. During the Grand Prix Championship, he skated for gold.

Gold had, in fact, become his new theme for this year. At the press conference, he had given his best show of mysterious aloofness for the camera. Gold, he had explained, was more than just the precious metal of which the first-place medal was made; it was the treasure he guarded with his life, like a possessive dragon protecting its elusive lair.

Victor would be his prize.

As Yuuri zoomed through the movements of his free skate step sequence, a wicked grin lit up his face. Last year, he had become katsu-don, the seductive temptress of the pork cutlet bowl. In the little time since then, he had transformed into an elegant and powerful monster, perched atop a smokey mountainside. He would rain fire down upon any and all who attempted to rob him of his prey.

Yuuko squeaked and jammed her hand on the railing. Having forgotten she was still there, Yurri released his final pose and glided towards her.

"Sorry." Yuuko bit her lip and squeezed her bruised extremity. "I got caught up watching you. You look so intense, Yuuri. It was almost like you were a different person."

"That's what I was going for!" Yuuri's boyish excitement returned as he jumped onto the padded floor. "I have to concentrate anyway, and that helps to make me look like I'm brooding, right?"

Laughing, Yuuko threw him a towel. "Yes, that's true. C'mon. Let's eat."

The evening came and went. Before Yuuri could comprehend it, he was picking up his dry-cleaned costumes and heading off with Minako to the rink. He couldn't wait for Victor to see them!

He was on his way to the costume room when Kenjirou bomb-rushed him. Unlike last year, during Yuuri's confidence slump, he was looking forward to competing against the energetic young boy.

"Yuuuuuuuri! I'm so excited to see your program—you've been so secretive about it, what's up with that?" In his typical chibi-esque fashion, Kenjirou's mood flipped 180 degrees. His million-watt grin morphed into a frown that wobbled hysterically on his small face. "Yuuuuuuuuuuri! I'm never going to beat you! I'm not worthy!" he cried out, dry-sobbing into Yuuri's jacket.

Ruffling the boy's hair—the middle section was dyed violet this year, very nice—Yuuri comforted him. "I'm sure you'll be fantastic, even better than last year. I have my work cut out for me to try and beat you."

That brought Kenjirou's cheer back in a flash. "I won't make it easy for you!" Sticking his tongue out, the young skater whipped out his arm and pointed straight at Yuuri's chest. "You can count on it.

The next half hour was a blur of makeup and hair adjustments. Yuuri let the excitement of the other skaters, especially those younger than him, bubble up under his skin. It did wonders for his tense muscles.

He left the dressing room to find Victor. Normally, his coach should have been there early to accompany him, but his flight had been delayed slightly. Yuuri couldn't understand why he had to leave the afternoon beforehand, only to fly back that day. Couldn't he have asked to do his interview in Osaka instead?

"Nice makeup, piggy."

"Yuri!" Yuuri grinned and hugged his unresponsive young friend. He didn't mean anything by the insult; somewhere down the line, it had become an endearing nickname that he enjoyed. He certainly still ate like a pig when okaa-san served katsu-don; he had earned his treat by working incredibly hard, dammit!"

Russian Yuri's face looked like the back end of a grizzly bear. "Consider yourself lucky I came here, piggy. The girl sitting behind me on my flight kept kicking my seat. I wanted to kick her teeth in!"

Yuuri laughed. He could very easily picture the whole scenario. One day, Yuri was definitely going to piss off the wrong person. "You didn't have to come… but I'm glad you're here."

The younger man turned pink and kicked at the ground. "Yeah, whatever," he mumbled. He looked Yuuri's costume up and down and frowned. "Going for literal, I see."

Ah, the glittering gold beads all over his body. Yuuri had considered rethinking this particular outfit at one point, but he thought it was appropriate for his first skate. "Just for the short program," he insisted. "I think you'll like the next one better."

Yuri cocked his blonde head to the side. "It's not for me but looks good on you. Not many people can pull off that much sparkly shit."

Wow, Yuri was pulling out the compliments today? Color Yuuri impressed.

"Careful, Yuri, your manners are showing," a familiar voice teased from behind them.

"Victor!" Yuuri threw his arms around his coach's neck and hugged him with all his might.

"It has only been a few hours since we last saw each other, no?"

Yuuri blushed and stared at the collar of Victor's white sweater. The older skater took that opportunity to whisper in Yuuri's ear. "You just had to pick a sinfully tight suit. Do you want to be my lucky gold coin?"

Fixing Victor's gaze with sly smile, Yuuri feigned a shrug of indifference. "How about I win you a lucky gold medal?"

"I could—"

"God, get a room," Yuri groaned, stuffing his hands into his central sweatshirt pocket. "Save it for the camera or whatever. They love that mushy crap."

He was not wrong. Controversy aside, the press was eating up their relationship like crunchy Christmas rollouts. Yuuri knew that Victor didn't mind, in big part because it gave him an excuse for his blatant cravings for PDA.

And, as Yuri had pointed out many, many times, Yuuri was just as bad.

They joined the other contestants to start the warm up and Yuri knew just what to do. He measured the distance between his starting position for the tricky triple axle in his free skate. If he slowed down his initial steps, he should make it without any risk of hitting the wall. As long as it still matched up to the timing of the music, he would be golden.

When he sild off the ice, he looked towards Victor out of habit. Victor made not one single suggestion to take out a move or play anything down. It warmed his heart to know that his skills had grown so much that Victor trusted him to take risks when he saw fit. None of it would have been possible without his training last year—the friendships Yuuri had made, the confidence he had gained in himself.

The judges called on him first, but Yuuri didn't mind. He was ready to show Victor the true meaning of his short program. He had spent so much time practicing and training, it was easy to forget sometimes: figure skating was, first and foremost, a physical work of art.

He was here to express himself and to have fun doing it. When the first notes to his shortened arrangement of "Gold Dust" by Galantis began playing over the loudspeakers, he felt sure had made the right choice.

The first half was all soothing notes and elegant gesture. Here, Yuuri told Victor how much he meant to him. His sit spin and almost all his flips were completely flawless.

The second half was his favorite. He could feel the energy of the crowd increasing with him and with the music as it transitioned to an energetic dance theme. The roared at every flip and at his triple lutz. In every rotation, he could feel it down to his bones; he owned this stage of ice. He didn't have to see Victor's face to know that those pale eyes couldn't leave him for a second.

It was over before he even knew it. Yuuri's chest heaved and his heart ached with happiness. The roar of the crowd pounded through his ears like a second heartbeat. However, there was only one voice he cared to hear.

"We'll have to work on that toe loop for the Grand Prix Final," Victor said aloud. But when they embraced a few seconds later, he whispered in Yuuri's ear, almost too soft to hear, "you are the most beautiful person I have ever met."

Yuuri's stomach could have done somersaults across the rink. This piece laid bare all his hopes and dreams for all the world to see, especially Victor.

"Not bad," Russian Yuri huffed, folding his arms. It was more than Yuuri had expected from him.

Luckily, going first meant he had a long while to rest and enjoy the other skaters' performances. His anxiety had been kind enough to wait until after the short program, but he could already feel it start to creep up on him during the long pause just before the judges announced his score.

"A total of 95.3 for Katsuki; that's a new record for him."

Indeed, he had achieved a significantly higher technical score this time, but he had not, perhaps surprised the audience as much as he could have done. His free skate would surely remedy that small issue, but he would have to be careful. He had only beat his previous score with a small margin.

Victor's strong arm around his shoulders helped him shake it off and get pumped to watch Kenjirou's short program. As promised, he was a force to be reckoned with. Having gone for a calmer number this year, the boy's increase in control was astonishing. He too had come incredibly far this year and earned the score to prove it.

"Looks like it's an 82.5 for Minami; another high score! Katsuki holds the record for now…"

"Let's get you dressed for free skate," Victor suggested. He had grown as a coach; his understanding of how Yuuri's fears and anxiety influenced his athletic performance was much more comprehensive. For the most part, he knew what to say. When to push or when to give Yuuri his space. Yuuri wondered how much of that had to do with their coach-student relationship in comparison to their romantic partnership.

"No you don't, glupyy," Yuri insisted, snatching Yuuri's arm. "Don't you know it's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding?"

Yuuri's face skyrocketed in temperature. "Sh-shut up! You can't just say that," he whined.

"Do you want to surprise him with your stupid costume or what?" Yuri rolled his eyes. "It's all the same horse dung to me."

"Well…"

"We'll be back. You, keep the seats warm," he commanded sharply.

"Aye, captain." Victor smirked a gave the young man a mock salute.

Back in the dressing room, Yuuri confronted his prickly sometime-friend. "What's going on? Don't get me wrong, I'm glad you're here and all, but you really didn't have to come all this way just for me. It's not like last year when we had to beat each other from the beginning."

"What? I can't support my friends in the competition?"

Yuuri didn't bother to answer that. When Yuri made a friend, he was lucky if he didn't push them away with his sour attitude. He didn't do support.

"Fine. Stupid Victor made me come. He practically dragged me here."

Dark eyes widening in shock, Yuuri nearly knocked the foundation brush out of his stylist's hand. "Made you? Why?"

Yuri feigned another shrug. "He probably thinks you are a baby who needs hand-holding. Idiot. Piggies don't have hands."

A smile cracked Yuuri's lips, which he was supposed to be keeping still now that the stylist moved on to a dab of lip color. He got it now. This whole thing must be part of Victor's plan to help reduce Yuuri's anxiety.

But how exactly did he intend to keep it up at the Grand Prix, once Yuuri became his ultimate rival?

"Much better," Yuuri grunted in approval. "This is one I would do."

The second his makeup was done, Yuuri whirled around to check in the mirror. Amazing! The stylist—Suki, if he remembered correctly—had created elegant, textured patches of scales on his face and neck, highlighted to make them appear raised and realistic.

"Do you get what I'm supposed to be?" he asked Yuri nervously.

"Dragon. No shit."

Yuuri wondered if he had gone too literal. Ah well, it was too late to overthink his costume choice of all things.

"Last year, you dress like black glove dame. This year, you breathe fire and glitter. Interesting choice."

He didn't have room to judge! "Hey, you picked a snowflake costume for your short program." He stuck his tongue out to the side and poked Yuri in the ribs.

It was hard to think that just over a year and a half ago, Yuri had hated his guts and cruelly insulted him in a public restroom. Well, maybe the latter half hadn't changed. Although the angsty young man refused to admit it, he wanted to be there for his friends when it counted most, much as Yuuri had done for him.

Earlier that year, when Yuri's grandfather passed away, both Yuuri and Victor flew to Moscow to be there for their friend. Yuri pretended to be fine, but in his grief, he trained too hard and rolled his ankle. During his recovery, there was a period when he threatened never to skate again.

Emotions Yuuri didn't usually feel, or rather let himself feel, had welled up inside him. Here was Yuri, the boy who had won the Grand Prix Final just because he was so angry at Yuuri for claiming he would retire, doing the exact same thing. He lashed out and called him a hypocrite. Victor had to drag him out of the room before Yuri could do something stupid, like punch him in the face.

Of course, Yuuri immediately regretted it. He shouldn't have said something so callous to someone who had recently suffered a painful loss. He should have assumed that Yuri was being his usual dramatic self and didn't mean anything about quitting.

The next day, when Yuri challenged him to another skate-off, he knew he was forgiven.

Once they were back on track, the days remaining until competition season melted away with the sakura blossoms. In a three-way battle to the top between Yuuri, Yuri, and Victor, none of them could afford to hold anything back.

Yuuri hated dwelling too much on his favorite opponents, and yet he had to use every advantage in his arsenal to beat them. Younger than Victor and older than Yuri, once again he would need to utilize the sweet spot between adult maturity and the stamina of his youth.

Yuri had hit a growth spurt this year and often cursed his change in weight distribution and balance. He did so loudly and in Russian, so Yuuri had to rely on Victor's amusing translations.

Victor, on the other hand, no longer had the ability to boost his score by shifting difficult technical moves into the second half of his programs. Then again, he had managed to retain most of his agility and grace throughout the past two years. Christophe and the others were fools if they thought him an easy target due to his age.

Besides, Yuuri had an advantage that no one else in the entire figure skating world could beat: he knew his opponents and knew them well.

He hadn't dared to get his hopes up until this point, but now that he was here, holding first place in the national finals again… he had a real shot at the gold.

Toning down his giddiness was a bit of a struggle. When they met up with Kenjirou again, he didn't have to. He could be just as excited about the competition as the younger boy. They sat next to each other in the stands, cheering on their friends, while Yuri grumbled nearby.

This was it; the end of the short programs. Kenjirou was the only one who had scored close to Yuuri. He still had over a ten-point margin, but it wouldn't do to be careless.

As the commentators announced the order of performers for the free skate, Yuuri jolted and looked around. "Where's Victor?"

"Your husband?" Kenjirou asked, quirking his head to the side.

Yuuri spluttered and covered his mouth. "We're—we're not—"

Kenjirou waved his hands frantically in surrender. "So sorry! I thought, with the matching rings and all, you know. It's just…" His face was red and it looked like he was trying very hard to contain himself. At last, he gave up, and shouted his next words in one excited breath of air. "Everybody's been saying you and Victor eloped and somehow kept it from the press!"

Unhelpfully, Yuri snickered at them, poorly disguised by his long sleeve.

"I…"

"Yuuriiiiiii," he whined, pulling on the feathered coattails of Yuuri's costume. "How is it you have all the fun stuff happen to you!?"

A wave of nervousness swept over Yuuri; he recalled Victor's playful comment during the Grand Prix finalists' dinner last year. "We'll get married when he wins a gold medal, right Yuuri?"

For as long as possible, Yuuri had avoided confronting Victor about what he said. Did he mean it? Did he really want to be with Yuuri in that way? Not to mention for the rest of their lives.

At the time, it was all too overwhelming to consider in-depth. When they began dating officially, only part of his questions had been answered. Even though he had known Victor for over two years now, just the concept of marrying somebody sounded crazy beyond belief.

The craziest part was that a few months ago, when they had just begun training for the new season, Victor had taken him on a date one night and made yet another comment that Yuuri couldn't get out of his mind. They were outside on a midnight stroll when Victor suddenly pulled Yuuri into his arms, holding his hand and kissing the ring settled on his finger.

"I want you to defeat me," he whispered. "But I won't let you win."

Those words echoed in Yuuri's ears as fresh as the day Victor uttered them. Thank his lucky stars that he had not been selected to skate first for a second time that evening, because he might have fainted right there on the ice.

He held the railing of the rink wall in an iron grip, shivering despite himself. No. He couldn't let himself falter now. He needed a way to turn this around, to squash his anxiety in its tracks before it ate him alive.

Russian Yuri nudged his shoulder. "The brat didn't mean anything by it."

"I know," Yuuri answered quickly, addressing himself as much as his friend. "It's not like I care about the assumptions people are going to make. Both of us accepted that this kind of thing would happen, it's just…"

Tensing as though he were the one about to skate in his own national final, Yuri opened his mouth, then quickly snapped it shut.

"Yuri?"

He didn't budge. Whatever the hell was going on, Yuuri didn't like it. There was a fundamental problem with the notion of Yuri Plisetsky holding back when he wanted to say something; Yuri didn't do holding back.

"You're freaking me out, man," Yuuri hissed, shaking both his arms.

Yuri glanced at something behind Yuuri's shoulder and cringed.

"What were you telling to Yuuri just now, Yuri?" Victor asked, his voice angelically polite. His stormy face was quite the opposite story.

"Ya yemu nichego ne skazal!"

Victor's fury disguised itself as a sweet smile. "Good." Yuri inched further and further away until he was on the opposite side of the bench, giving them both some privacy.

Originally, Yuuri had planned to demand some answers from them both. Victor's pale eyes distracted him, roaming slowly and purposefully down the length of his body. "I see now why you hid your outfit from me."

True, he had worried that Victor might try to talk him out of his literal interpretation of the Dragon Dance step sequence. The other half of his worries included what potential damage his boyfriend might inflict upon the poor garment in the process of ripping it off during their private dress rehearsal. His concerns were not unfounded.

"You have troubled your coach these past months. How could I help you skate to the best of your ability when you refused to tell me what the theme means to you?" Victor let out a cool puff of air against Yuuri's cheek. "The point is to surprise the judges, not me."

Pouring the entire sea of his raging emotions into one gaze, Yuuri told Victor without words the sole intended witness of this performance.

"…in his free skate performance. Kutsuki Yuuri is on deck, ladies and gentlemen."

Victor squeezed his hands. "It's almost time."

"Did you mean it?"

"What?"

"About getting married if I win the Grand Prix." Yuuri shivered. "Did you mean it?"

The murderous face returned. "Yuri told you, didn't he?"

"ARE YOU SERIOUS!?" Multiple stares turned their way, but Yuuri didn't care in the slightest.

"We already have the rings. If you try to tell me that after all this time that they only mean a gesture of gratitude to you, then…"

Yuuri thought he might have to be a fish for this competition rather than a dragon, what with the way he gaped at Victor.

The older man blushed. "I left it up in the air because… because I did not know if you would say yes."

"Victor…"

They stood there for a long time, both of them deaf to the clamouring of the crowd.

"You're right, we've already given each other these rings. I knew I needed to prove myself this year, to show you how far I'd climb, and… I wanted to be worthy of it," Yuuri admitted shyly.

Victor grinned and kissed him full on the mouth. "Worthy? I would give you more if you wanted—three more!"

Still out of breath, Yurri let out a tired puff of laughter. "Five rings!? What would we do with them all?"

The Russian championship skater fiddled with the fire-colored collar on Yuuri's costume. "I can think of a few ideas…"

That day, Yuuri Katsuki scored a total of 180.7 points in his free skate program, synching the gold medal for Japan by a landslide.

Come this Grand Prix Final, he would earn his prize at last.

* * *

I am so so SOOOOOO sorry I couldn't post this until after midnight! The dang doc manager was trying to shove all of my paragraphs together.

**I am also sorry that I did not get around to narrating Yuuri's free skate! If you want to see that, please review and/or PM me.

Feel free to spread some holiday cheer in the comments if you like. Any and all flames will fuel the fire by which my characters snuggle with their significant others!

Happy holidays and best of luck coming up with your New Year's resolutions!


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